


The Difference

by shutupfour



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Mermaids, Mermen, Ocean, Sea, beach, mermaid, merman, merman x human girl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 02:27:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7872451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shutupfour/pseuds/shutupfour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>WIP merman x human girl story. Still figuring everything out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Difference

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure how many people are going to see this, but I wanted to try to write an actual story. This is not complete by any means, but I'm proud of what I have so far. It takes a lot for me to sit and write something that I could see myself expanding on. I'm also setting a goal for myself to have written something completed by the end of this school year, and I figured this could be it. I've always loved mermaids; Ariel has always been my favorite princess. I also just moved by the water for college, and I felt inspired. If you do read this, it would mean a lot to me if you left some critique. I'm not perfect and I realize this isn't too; there's always room for me to learn and improve.

I had seen her before. She had hair that was golden like the sun, and a smile that shone as bright, her teeth appearing like the pearls that dwelled in the depths of my home. She was lively, always laughing, always happy. She came here often, sometimes with others of her kind, sometimes alone in the smallest hours of the morning, when the sun had barely arisen from its state of slumber. 

It was a curious activity she partook in when she came. She carried with her a pouch of fabric with various objects inside, none of which I recognized. But even more obvious, was her long piece of drift wood. Or rather, it did not look like drift wood, but I had no other word for what she carried. It did not have the texture of drift wood, but looked smooth, and reflected the sun as the water slid off of its bright colors, not unlike the vibrant ones seen in coral. It had fins attached to it, but they never moved. It was a very peculiar object.

With this board, she would stand and ride the surf created by the bigger waves back to shore. Her arms would extend, making her appear like the gulls that flap above the water. Then she would paddle back and repeat her careful process of turning around and standing up. I noticed after a few sessions that she would not ride every wave, and I could not begin to decipher her decision making process for choosing which surf she would choose. However, I knew she had found one she liked when her lips would curl into a slight grin. 

She would do this for hours sometimes before heading back to the sand and disappearing until her next visit. 

Today, she came alone. I kept my distance, hesitant for her to ever see me; I was sure our different appearances would scare her into never coming back. Fortunately, this part of the beach was filled with numerous rocks for me to hide behind. 

The girl, like always, made her way to the water, her shiny driftwood in her arms. She pushed out into sea, laying on her board and paddling. After a while, she stopped, and propped herself up to sit. She looked peaceful to be on the water, surrendered to the open sea. She took many deep breaths, and as she did so, I peeked underwater to look at her legs. They were toned and dark and slender, with small feet attached to them. The human anatomy puzzled me.

I looked down at my own bare torso. Scales lined my stomach, becoming sparser the higher up they went, until there was nothing but skin, save for a few on my hands and arms. In place of legs, like the human girl, I possessed a tail. My scales were shades of blue and green, reflecting light like the water, color matching the ocean. They reminded me of emeralds and sapphires-beautiful and vividly bold. Instead of feet, I had fins, sheer and long and elegant. 

When I looked back at the girl, however, all I felt was dismay for my glittering tail. Our physical divergence would always keep our worlds as such. Separate, parallel, never to cross. This was a deeply saddening thought, and one which I preferred to push aside.

The girl followed through with her normal routine of riding the surf. I enjoyed watching her, no matter the confusion I felt. I could tell this strange activity brought her immense joy. I cursed myself when I silently wished I could experience it with her. 

Disheartened, I was about to leave her to the waves, when an unusually large swell developed. I watched her face, to try and discern whether she would ride this surf or not. I squinted, and felt an uneasiness I could not explain. Why should I worry? I had seen her do this hundreds of times before. And I would have listened to my reasoning and swam away, had I not felt glued to the rock with apprehension. 

So I watched, anxiety chewing at my insides, waiting for something to happen, or nothing to happen. 

When something happened, it hit her suddenly. She fell off her board and hit the water, going under, an escaping scream cut short. I did the same, panicked to see her body helpless to the thrashing currents, throwing her in circles and striking her against the rocks that littered the bay. All conscious thought abandoned me, replaced with compulsion and duress. 

Hastening, I swam toward her, arms at my sides. Once at the spot the girl was hurtled to, I paused to examine the space around me, searching for signs of her-her golden hair, her bronze skin, anything. Then, to the left, I glanced blonde streaks. I swam over, and looked at the girl for the briefest moment before I scooped her into my arms. I had little time to think about the proximity between us. 

I brought her to the shore line, and laid her down on the sand. I gazed at her face, letting the realization sink in that I had just been holding her, mere seconds ago. That the wall between our worlds had disintegrated for a fleeting second. Selfishly, I had forgotten why she was on the sand and so close to me in those moments of thought, but I quickly minded myself and began to inspect her for injuries. 

To my great relief, she was still alive, even if a bit wounded from the rocks. She was cut at various spots on her body and bruised badly at others, but it did not appear as if she was fatally harmed. I thanked Triton that I had stayed to watch her. 

I couldn’t do much for her regarding her injuries, as I didn’t know proper care for wounds out of the water and didn’t want to risk her further harm, but I did sit with her to be sure that she would survive if I left. In fact, I sat with her longer than I had needed or intended. This ended up being my greatest error, for the longer I sat by her, the more time I had to look at her features—her nose, her lips, her eyes—everything. An even bigger mistake was to touch her—touch her soft hair, her smooth skin, hold her hand in mine. It had only heightened my curiosity further and my desire for our fates to align. 

I knew I had sat too long when she began to stir. I should have left then. I should have gone back to the water. I should have become once again invisible to her. I should have done many things. But I stupidly remained by her side, remained gazing, remained visible.

I’m not sure what I expected when she finally came to. Maybe it was a greeting filled with love, or maybe it was a declaration of recognition. Whatever it was, I had not received. I was met with initial confusion, followed by a look of pure terror upon seeing my fish features. Just as frightful, I rushed back to the water, swimming as fast as I could away from the human girl. Foolish. It was imprudent of me to think she would look upon me with gratitude or fondness. My people recognized ourselves as aesthetic and winsome, but her kind might see us as unnatural, as monsters. I did not go back again that day.

I’m not sure why I went back the following morning. I didn’t expect her to be there, and I didn’t feel particularly drawn to the bay that day after the foregoing events. But there I was, sitting on a rock and looking out at the sandy shore, the waves repeatedly crashing down on them. It was a tranquil atmosphere, and one that helped soothe my anguish. 

I sat on the rock for a long while. It was when the sun was long past the middle of the sky that I saw a figure approach on the beach. I reacted, jumping into the water, trying to make my dive inconspicuous. From behind the rock, I poked my head above the surface, watching and listening. 

I supposed I had been spotted before jumping back to safety, as I heard a voice call out in my direction. Tragically, I could not understand her words. I remained behind the rock for a few moments longer before I beckoned enough courage to reveal myself. Nothing was heard from the girl. I ducked under and swam closer to her, until I was in the shallowest part of the water. I emerged to see the girl with her head hung in her arms. She was not looking at me. Feeling daring, I advanced. When I stopped, I was no more than ten feet from her. She looked up.

Her first reaction was similar to the previous one. She froze in fear, seeming to be somewhere between wanting to flee and wanting to stay. Though, it seemed her interest had bested her, because she stayed sitting where she was. I didn’t dare move.

The girl began to say something before stopping herself, covering her mouth with her hand. The longer we looked at each other, the more her fear seemed to ebb away, being replaced with a sort of fascination. I felt her stare turn to my tail. Following her eyes, I turned my head to look at my tail, too. I flipped it for her, making my blue green scales flash against the sunlight, watching her face for more emotional cues. She appeared genuinely intrigued now. I focused my gaze back on her. I took note that her eyes were a similar ocean blue. 

The girl said something else that I could not understand, and it took her a moment to grasp that I did not speak her language. She distorted her features with discontent. Then she brightened, and put her hand to her chest multiple times, saying a single word that I still did not recognize, but assumed I should say this too. I comprehended that it might be what she calls herself. 

It was a miserable attempt at repeating her language, but she nodded excitedly all the same. I copied her hand motion, and said what I call myself. As it turned out, our language was also a difficult one. 

The girl tried to communicate a few more phrases with me, which I gathered meant she wanted to meet the next day at sunset. She had used her arms to point and demonstrate what I thought was the sun cycle. I agreed to her proposal, and we parted ways for the evening. 

I arrived the following sundown, being only able to think about her the past day. She was already at the beach when I surfaced at the shore. We did the closest thing we could to greetings, which included me nodding my head and her shaking her hand at me. I thought this might be a regular human custom. I once again tried to copy her, and she laughed at the effort. 

We exchanged a few tries at dialogue. It was difficult to understand, and I began to realize that there was a much more significant barrier between our species than just appearances. 

It was also this visit that she touched my tail. I had caught her staring at it once more, and looked at her. She must have felt embarrassed in some way, because she turned her face away. After pausing to contemplate, I picked up my tail and swung it toward her. She eyed it as if unsure, but her inquisitiveness had bested her again, and she slowly extended her hand out to my fins. She lay a gentle hand on them, stroking the scales with the grain. I offered her a small smile, which she returned with an expression of wonder. Our meeting ended shortly after that. 

As I was heading back to my home, I found myself thinking about her. I let my mind wander to places beyond the sea. I wondered what her world had to offer. I wondered what differences there really were between my home and hers. I also wondered why I felt so enlivened after meeting with her. After all, it had only been two sun-downs since she had been simply a human girl I found captivating, and I to her an unknown spectator. 

I was unfamiliar with most emotions brought on in these recent occurrences. My people were proud, and knew little of love, compassion, and empathy. Our society was a prosperous one, with life of all kinds thriving within it, and of course there was interaction with one another, but it was disconnected. My people did things for a purpose, not on an impulse or because they wanted to. This is what kept our society as it was, but it was a very different thing to see humans have genuine, uninhibited fun. 

I supposed this is what set me apart from my people. I wanted to know these emotions. I wanted to feel connected to someone. I wanted to _feel_.


End file.
